


the city lights on the water

by WickedSong



Series: you are the best thing that's ever been mine [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I may have been vaguely inspired by 101 Dalmatians, Skyeward Week, This may be the cutest thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedSong/pseuds/WickedSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It all starts when Buddy gets excited."</p><p>AU in which Grant lives in the woods, Skye lives in her van and Buddy is the most unlikely of matchmakers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the city lights on the water

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Skyeward Week, Day Five: AU. I remember talking to a few people about this particular AU after Ragtag aired and then kind of forgot about how much I wanted it. I found the posts yesterday morning, however, and suddenly I had this. It came out much longer than I had anticipated but I hope you guys all enjoy it! Can't wait to see what everyone else has up their sleeves for AU day too! (For the purposes of this story either SHIELD doesn't exist or they're not part of SHIELD; either works). Title is from 'Mine' by Taylor Swift.

It all starts when Buddy gets excited.

He runs off, down the street, and Grant mentally kicks himself for not buying a leash when he had the chance.

It's fine, when they're home and no one else is around for miles. Out in the wilderness Buddy can run to his heart's content and he usually does and it's fine. Relaxing, almost, in a way. In the middle a busy city like L.A., when Buddy gets like this, it's simply a nightmare.

Knocking past people, as politely as he can, Grant breaks out into a half-run when he notices his dog has turned into a corner, inevitably into an alleyway. It's the city, it's almost dark, and so he braces himself for any number of unsavoury figures. What he doesn't expect, when he turns the corner, his fists clenched, is to find Buddy barking happily at a woman standing by a van.

The woman smiles, bright and infectious, before kneeling to Buddy's height and stroking his fur.

"You're a cute one, aren't you?" Grant hears her say. She laughs, a sound of pure delight, when Buddy responds by licking her face, his tail wagging like crazy.

It's strange, Grant notes, because while Buddy isn't one to shy away from affection - at least now - this woman's face lights up immediately. He thinks it's kind of cute and is he smiling? _No, no,_ he thinks, and he clears his throat loudly. He hates being in the city this late anyway.

"Buddy!"

He cringes almost as soon as he shouts, quickly realising how loud he is. He feels even more embarrassed when the woman and Buddy are look straight at him, visibly startled.

"You didn't have to shout," she tells him, recovering quickly from the shock. She stands, wiping her hands on her jeans and then tilting her head at him. Her lips are drawn in a thin line as she looks around. "It's not a very big alley, as you can probably tell." She shrugs her shoulders at him as if to prove her point.

He clears his throat again and nods.

He notices now that she's also kind of pretty. Long dark hair, brown eyes, petite. He's tall - gangly almost - his clothes don't fit properly and he's suddenly aware of the red cap he's wearing, the one he's owned since he was seventeen and scared and cold, that makes him look like some sort of boy scout.

"I…I didn't mean…"

Buddy sidles up to him, and jumps up, as if to apologise for running off like that.

When Grant looks back over at the woman she's closing the door to the van and smiling at him.

"Whatever," she concedes, before shrugging her shoulders again. "No harm, no foul, right?"

Grant thinks she must be awfully brave, or just awfully stupid, to continue talking to some random stranger whose dog just cornered her in an alleyway. He could be anyone. Besides, she looks like she's on her way somewhere and all he's doing is keeping her.

Buddy paces between them.

"Sorry for keeping you-"

"Skye," she says, with a small, but infectious, grin, that he tries his hardest not to return. It's futile really. "My name is Skye. Just Skye," she clarifies quickly.

"No last name?" he asks, as she takes a step closer to him.

Maybe it's a fake name, but she gives a small smile, nods and looks sincere so he accepts it.

He holds his hand out. "Grant Ward."

She catches his hand in her own, and shakes it. "Well it was nice to meet you Grant." Buddy gives a whimper and she smiles down at him, running a hand through his fur once more. "You too, Buddy."

She waves goodbye going in the opposite direction and Grant simply watches her go, feeling something odd pressing down on his stomach.  _Butterflies?_

"Now that's just stupid," he mutters, to himself and to Buddy.

* * *

It's a week later when he runs back into her. Or, to be exact, Buddy runs into her.

They're walking down the busy street – he's finally invested in that leash to keep Buddy from running off – and suddenly he feels himself being pulled down the same alleyway where the van is parked. It's his own fault really, he thinks, as he tries to pull Buddy back, he shouldn't have walked down this street again, shouldn't have let curiosity get the better of him...

He's strong, but obviously not as strong as Buddy's enthusiasm. He loses his grip on the leash and hits something. Something hard.

"Buddy," he half-shouts, half-growls, flat on his back, on the ground.

His face and back hurt and he opens his eyes to see the van swimming in his vision. He hit himself off a van. _When will that dog learn?_

And he can only guess the van belongs to...

"Need a hand?"

_Skye._

She looms over him, hands on her hips, looking mildly concerned. He breathes out a sigh.

"I'm okay," he says. He waves a hand lamely in the air and she sighs.

"Men can be such babies," she replies. He can feel her helping him up, and is surprised that she's that strong. He guesses that looks can be deceiving.

She helps him over to the van, the door already open, and helps him sit. She goes to examine his face but he flinches away. She pulls her hand away.

"Sorry, you hit your head pretty hard that's all," she says. She looks down, Buddy standing by her side. "I think he got a little excited."

Grant nods, blinks, and then sends Buddy a look. Buddy stands behind Skye's legs almost immediately. 

"I'm fine," he insists, although his head hurts and he feels a little dizzy. Is that normal.

"You're bleeding," Skye offers in a small voice. He can see her almost go to touch the graze, but she must remember, and she pulls her hand back again. "You should really go to a hospital, you know see someone."

Does she sound a little guilty?

He groans a little in pain but he's had worse and survived.

Skye bites her lip, wrings her hands together a little and then clicks her fingers together, as if she's had an idea. She retrieves her cell phone from her pocket and dials a number, talking in hushed tones to someone called Jemma.

In the meantime, Buddy jumps beside Grant, whimpering and looking for some sort of affection. Grant realises he can't really stay mad at him for that long. 

"You gotta stop running off like that," Grant says. He places a hand on his head and Buddy licks his face. Grant laughs, not realising straight away that Skye's off the phone.

"If I can break up this little love-fest," she begins, with a teasing smile and phone still in hand, "I have a friend who can see you. She's not a doctor exactly, but she should be able to look you over and make sure you're not going to die or something."

He highly doubts he's going to die from this, but she still sounds guilty and he realises it's more for her conscience than his health. He finds he's okay with that.

She tells him to get into the van, and once he and Buddy are in the back - it's cramped - he looks around, noticing pictures around the walls, noticing that this looks almost like somewhere someone-

"You live here?" he asks, as she keeps her eyes trained on the road ahead of them. 

She nods. "Home is home. And before you ask," she says, as if she's been asked a million times before, "it's by choice."

He's the loner who lives in a cabin out in the woods, he's not exactly going to judge. He doesn't say that though, just nods. "Cool."

She laughs at that.

* * *

 

They arrive outside a dusty old bar. She opens the van door, and gestures as if asking if he needs help. He says no and climbs out the van, Buddy at his heels.

"What about-"

He's sure dogs aren't allowed in bars.

"It's cool," Skye assures him. "I know the couple who run this place. They'll be fine with it."

"Do you bring all the guys you meet to this place to receive medical treatment?"

She turns, and hands him the leash for Buddy. "Oh no, he's funny," she deadpans.

She pushes the door of the bar open. Grant attaches the leash to Buddy and she ushers them both in. The light is dim, but she must see the person she's looking for because she waves over to them and then turns to Grant, leading him to a small booth in the corner. A man and woman sit there, talking about something animatedly and loudly, until they notice Skye.

"Honestly, Skye, you could have asked me to meet you somewhere else," the woman, he assumes to be Jemma, says, with a shake of her head. It had been hard to pinpoint her accent before but now he deduces that she's English. "You're going to have to ask Phil if I can look at him in the back. It's far too dark out here."

Grant continues to stand nervously, thankful that at least he's stopped bleeding. He looks around, clinging to Buddy's leash tighter, feeling his curiosity around the bar.

The last thing he needs is for him to run rampant around so many people.

Skye nods to Jemma.

"Sure thing." She turns to the guy. "I'm going to assume you're coming round back too."

The guy shrugs and then speaks in a Scottish accent Grant wasn't expecting. "Well what else am I going do?" 

Where did Skye know these people from  _again_? Maybe his head was starting to hurt - a little.

Skye leans closer to Grant, and fake-whispers, "Fitz is like a puppy. It's kinda cute."

"I heard that."

Jemma claps her hands together, sensing the conversation steering off-topic. She takes Grant's arm so quickly he doesn't even have a chance to protest. "Come on, let me see you."

A barman, who they all appear to know, lets them round back. He introduces himself as Trip and gives him a friendly smile and a firm handshake, before Jemma pulls him away.

They all pile into the back room and Jemma retrieves a first aid kit that's stowed away in a cupboard.

"I don't think that's necessary-" Grant starts, but she's already shining a light in his eye, checking him over and patching up the cuts on his face.

"So how did this happen anyway?" Trip asks curiously, as they all sit around and it breaks Grant out of his thoughts long enough to look to Buddy.

It's almost accusingly, and the dog withers under the glare. Buddy returns the big eyes but Grant has long been immune to that look.

"This little guy just loves me too much," Skye announces with a laugh, as she hugs the animal closer to her, the leash wrapped around her hand as she stands beside Fitz.

" _Who_  loves you too much?"

They all turn, to find a man dressed in a crisp suit, standing by a stern looking woman. The pair appear to survey the scene and Grant notices how their eyes both turn sharply to Skye, who only smiles sheepishly in their direction.

The man sighs. "Oh dear."

* * *

When Jemma's finished, Fitz offers to buy him a beer but Grant refuses. He still has to drive home at some point and he's still feeling a little dazed. Trip tries to change his mind; says it's on the house for both of them, but Grant insists and it's not pushed any further.

He sits outside, on a bench with Jemma and Fitz. Buddy huddled up, dutifully, at his feet.

"Thanks by the way," he says to Jemma, pointing to his face. "I wouldn't have wanted to see what it looked like in the morning."

Jemma nurses a beer in hand and waves her head. "It was no bother at all. Just be more careful next time."

Grant says that he will.

When Skye emerges from the building, Jemma and Fitz suddenly declare that it's getting chilly out and decide to go inside. 

She takes the seat beside him. Buddy takes this as his cue to stand, stretch and then nuzzle at  _her_  feet.

"I'm starting to think that he loves you more than me," Grant says, with an air of mock offence.

In all honesty, she's so good with him though, he can kind of see why.

She laughs at this. " _Man's_  best friend, my ass."

They both laugh at that and then there's silence until Grant speaks up.

"I'm sorry if I got you into trouble with-"

"Oh, Phil and Melinda?" Skye waves a dismissive hand. "It's fine. They don't really mind, to be honest. I mean at first they thought I'd been in a fight or something but once I explained you just hit yourself off my van…well-"

"So they're your-"

"Parents?" she supplies, sounding as if she's asked this question a lot, like the one about her van. Her voice strains a little, oddly forced and bright and he knows that he's hit a raw nerve. He goes to apologise quickly but she shakes her head. "They're as good as, I guess. I mean, they look out for me. They're the first people to do that in a long time."

She bites her lip and looks back at him. "What about you?" she asks, and it's almost like he imagined the sadness that crept into her voice. There's no trace of it now. "You don't strike me as the city living kind of guy."

"Oh, I'm not," he says. He doesn't know how to explain to it; doesn't know whether he should just bare his soul. She looks like she would probably listen. But this is only the second time he's met her, and he's just been patched up by her friend in the back of the bar owned by the people who are almost like her parents. So maybe not.

"We live in a cabin, out in the outskirts of the city, in the woods," he clarifies. "We come into L.A. once a week for supplies, food for Buddy, anything we can't get for ourselves really…" He trails off before he says 'the company'. He's not the biggest fan of the city, or people in general, but even he finds he gets lonely. Not often, just sometimes.

Skye nods, as if that explains something. Maybe it explains everything. He's never quite examined it; just decided to drive one day until he'd left his family behind and let it all go, until he'd found somewhere far enough away. Buddy had been a stray; weak and almost dying, that he had found. He'd had a tag around his neck with the initials J.G. but no phone number. Nobody had come for him, but Grant had already taken him in as his own.

That had been years ago.

"Oh wait," Skye says, suddenly and she rushes towards her van. He can see her scrambling inside it, trying to find something and she eventually returns; the red cap in hand.

"It fell off when you…fell over," she says, with a sympathetic smile. She hands it back to him but he pushes it back.

"You can keep it. You know, if you want. It'd probably look better on you anyway."

She inspects it, trying to determine whether or not he has some sort of angle, then looks at him and finally decides to try it on, posing proudly with it on her head.

Grant admits she looks good in it. Not that he'd be brave enough to tell her.

She sits beside him on the bench, hat still on her head. They talk; about everything and nothing in between, and inch closer and closer together as the chill of the night closes in.

Neither ever suggests goes back inside, and neither says anything about heading home. He's struck by the realisation that he doesn't want to leave.

Eventually they start talking about Jemma and Fitz. "Those two are joined at the hip," Skye explains, "They go to grad school together and everyone calls them FitzSimmons. Simmons is Jemma's second name, by the way." She shivers a little, and she's rambling. It's cute.

She's cold, he figures, and realising he has no jacket to give her, he hesitantly puts an arm around her, fully expecting her to pull away and to feel like an idiot.

She doesn't.

"They're cute. I mean, they're not dating yet, but we have a pool going. It's only a matter of time." She nods to herself, somewhat certain. "Anyway, you're not allowed to leave. I've been the third wheel for _years_."

It surprises him but he's sure she's joking. Isn't she? Yeah, just joking, probably. And those are certainly _not_ butterflies in his stomach again.

Buddy sleeps soundly at their feet, and some patrons begin to leave the bar. He doesn't have a sense of the time at all, only registers Skye's head on his shoulder and how strange and wonderful it feels all at the same time.

"You can probably see the stars clearer from your cabin, can't you?" she asks, sounding sleepy. He wonders if they  _could_  just fall asleep here.

"Yeah, it's away from all the city lights so they're all you can see."

Sometimes he sleeps outside and looks up and imagines all manner of universes. Ones that were fairer, ones that were kinder, ones that were less lonely. Maybe they're out there, but maybe they don't compare to this moment, right now.

_Maybe._

She snuggles in closer to him and he tenses up. "Oh, do you-" She goes to pull away but he shakes his head.

"No, it's…nice."

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks -  _don't get used to it,_ but he refuses to listen, if only for the moment, the warmth radiating from Skye making it feel like a lie.

The stars twinkle overhead and Buddy yawns in his sleep, which makes Grant wonder for a moment if his dog did any of this on purpose. Now there's a thought that makes him feel silly. He ruffles Buddy's fur anyway which causes Skye to shuffle a little. She seems to be asleep and he wonders if he should wake her.

He smiles as he leans back and lets his own eyelids flutter.

Maybe the city lights aren't so bad after all.


End file.
